Johnny sized up the situation carefully. Aside from some crude benches
running round its walls and a cruder table which held the moonshine
still, the room was devoid of furnishings. Ranged round the wall, with
the benches for seats, were some thirty men and perhaps half as many
hard-faced native women. On every face was an expression of gloating
expectancy.

Now and again, a hand holding a small wooden cup would steal out toward
the keg to be instantly knocked aside by a husky young fellow whose duty
it appeared to be to guard the hooch.

Johnny tried to imagine what the result would be were he suddenly to
enter the place. He would not risk that. He would wait. He counted the
moments as the sound of the dripping liquid grew fainter and fainter. At
last there came a loud:

"Dez-ra" (enough), from an old man in the corner.

Instantly the tank was lifted to one side, the fire beaten out, the keg
of ice flung outside and the keg of hooch set on the table in the center
of the room.

Everybody now bent eagerly forward as if for a spring. Every hand held a
cup. But at this instant there came the shuffle of footsteps outside.
Instantly every cup disappeared. The kettle was lifted to a dark corner.
The room was silent when Johnny stepped inside.

"Hello," he shouted.

"Hello! Hello!" came from every corner.